


Familiar

by Shadsie



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Selves, Amiibo, Amnesiac Hero, Animals, Drama, Early in the game, Few / no spoilers, First impressions of a game, Fun in an open world, Gameplay and Story Integration, Gen, Horses, Humor, Magical summoning, Playing with amiibos, Ruins, Voices in the Head, Wolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10387098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadsie/pseuds/Shadsie
Summary: Perhaps it was because he was an amnesiac, but the young man was desperate for something familiar. Everything else was strange about the world he'd woken up to, so he might as well obey the voices in his head.  He heeded the call of the Sheikah Slate to call up a Familiar with a wolf's form and human eyes. The horse that came seemed to know him, too.  It was good to have friends.





	

 

**FAMILIAR**

**  
A Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Fan Fiction**

 

Bewildered. 

 

There was no other term for the young man’s state of mind – simply “bewildered.”  He’d awakened alone in a cold cavern and had found himself running out into a field of grass and flowers upon a craggy plateau.  His first sights upon finding daylight were mysterious structures on the horizon that had filled him with a strange ache, like a several-days-old healing bruise in his heart.  He hadn’t the foggiest what the name of that volcano was, or who’d reigned in that palace – at least not at first – but he felt like he’d known them.  It was the same with the cold battlements he’d scaled, the canyon-lands he’d overlooked from those broken walls and especially – most especially, that old temple near the cave where he’d been born yesterday. 

 

He’d spent a week stuck up on the plateau, all-told, with only a few bits of clothing he’d found in the shrine he’d awakened in and a magical slate to his name.  He’d remembered his name, somehow – “Link.”  He also seemed to have certain instincts for the use of weapons he’d found, a visceral loathing of the monsters that were hanging around the area, and had found that he was a quick butcher whenever he’d taken an animal in the hunt.  He’d obviously retained a large set of wilderness survival skills he’d learned sometime, even though he’d still managed to set himself on fire briefly trying to clear a patch of land of some grass.    
  
Thankfully, he’d patted himself down in short order and his burns were minimal.   

 

The lone soul he’d met there had been little help.  The old man had given him some story about that dreadful smoke around the castle in the distance, which had stirred up something urgent within him.  A week later, he’d done the old man’s task – a series of physics-puzzles tied to the “Sheikah Slate” and had been bequeathed with the only means off the plateau – a rather useful glider.  Link realized that he was not acrophobic and thanked the Goddess for that.  The old wanderer he’d met had taken another form and had given him a long and mysterious story about a princess, a knight, a beast and destiny, which brought Link to where he was this day:  Sitting by a cozy fire on a cool morning at the Dueling Peaks Stable. 

 

He’d been learning to cook again. Although it seemed to be one of the basic skills he’d retained, he didn’t know how to make anything in particular except by experimentation.  He’d spent an entire night playing with things he’d found along his journey.  The young man figured that he must have been quite the mycologist in whatever past life he’d had before his memories had fled him, for he had no fear of any of the mushrooms he’d gathered.  Mushrooms were one of those things that would straight up kill a person if they didn’t know what they were doing, yet he recognized all he’d picked as safe.  The Sheikah Slate confirmed this, registering the properties of what he’d plucked from the ground, nestled against tree roots.  He’d spent the night making meat and mushroom skewers, fish and fruit dishes, not the least bit tired by dawn.  He’d slept little – figuring that having been asleep for one-hundred years (according to the old man’s story) must have kept him fresh.    


Not that he was without his doubts.  In the cold light of sunrise, Link stared hearing voices.    
  
Truth be told, he’d heard a young woman’s voice when he’d awakened in the cave.  It was following him.  It had warned him of a blood moon that raised slain monsters from the dead.  He’d known Princess Zelda’s voice – again, aching to his heart like those temple ruins, like a healing bruise or an old bone fracture. (He’d must have gone through a lot to know what those felt like).  A little pang of startled emotion took him whenever he’d heard her.  He was certain that he’d only known her name because of the old man – who was the spirit of her father, the ancient king.  He knew that voice, even though it was as bewildering to him as everything else in this world.    
  
Now, he was hearing a multitude of voices all jumbled together and they were all speaking in earnest.  Link looked around at the people of the stable – the travelers who’d come to rest and the stable-keepers.  He even looked to the horses, wondering, for a moment, if among the amazing set of skills he seemed to know by heart if talking with animals was among them.    
  
“Point a light from your Sheikah Slate into the field,” someone commanded, echoing within his skull, “and you may summon our help.” 

 

“Who are you?” he asked silently, not wanting to wake his fellow travelers, who probably already thought that he looked a touch insane, since he’d had to ask some odd questions about the local wildlife and about the way the inn-keeping worked.    
  
“We are friends from another time,” someone answered.  “Our energies have been bound into the Sheikah Slate, which you hold, and thus bound to you. We are able to help you once each day if you only reach out and summon for our aid.”   
  
“Aid? Of what manner?”   
  
“…”    
  
“In for a rupee, in for a ruby,” Link thought as he sighed and aimed the sun’s reflection off the slate into the grass just outside the area where the traders’ wagons were parked.  He didn’t know if it was the sun’s reflection he was seeing in the grass or some kind of magical internal light issued by the slate itself.  He’d already been to a few of the ancient monks’ shrines and had seen stranger things in the form of the physics-puzzles they seemed to want to challenge “the Hero” with.  He hoped he knew what he was getting into. 

 

A strong voice answered him.  It had a ring of familiarity to it.  In fact, it seemed to be quite similar to his own voice.  “I can give you myself,” it said.  “I cannot fight in my true form, but I have a form by which I can fight at your side, if you will have me.”    
  
“Who are you?” Link asked the voice. He caught himself whispering it.  One of the travelers who’d awakened was looking at him strangely as he stared out into the field, mouthing to himself.    
  
“I am your spirit in another life.” 

  
“Makes about as much sense as anything else I’ve encountered.”    
  
“Well, from your perspective, given your amnesia, you were ‘born’ a little over a week ago.”    
  
“I don’t recall asking for snark.”  - This line was one that Link managed not to mouth.    
  
“The path before you is a dangerous one.  If you will have me, I can be your Familiar.  Concentrate your will into the Sheikah Slate and call me.”    
  
“Here goes,” Link said as he aimed and focused his will.  The traveler behind him gasped, as did he when a grouping of black rectangular specks materialized from the sunspot on the grass.  The black spots coalesced into the shape of a dire wolf.     
  
Link found his hand reaching for the sword on his back, but refrained when the animal looked up at him with clear blue eyes.  It was most unusual – not just because of its size, but because the black parts of its fur took on a greenish cast along its backbone.    
  
“A Familiar!  An animal-familiar!” one of the resident stable-kids cried, running out to the field to see.  “Did you just see that, Darton?  That guy’s a sorcerer!”    
  
“Oh, cool!” the other child chimed.  “Can you conjure up a spirit-horse?”    
  
Link rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m afraid I’m not sure what I’m doing,” he said.    
  
The wolf stretched and yawned at his side.    
  
“Well, me in another life, huh?’ the young man asked the animal.  The wolf barked an affirmative.    
  
“There is… something familiar about you, I must say,” Link continued.  “You can no longer speak to me? Like you were doing in my head?”   
  
The wolf shook as if shaking water off its body.  Link took this as a “No.” 

 

“I guess it’ll be nice to have a traveling buddy.”    
  
Link smiled and made his way back to the cooking fire.  He sat down as the wolf ran about in the field, chasing birds and stalking the wild horses that were grazing nearby.  The canine did not wander far and soon loped back to the Dueling Peaks Stable camp to rest beside his “master.”    
  
The young man cautiously reached out a hand to stroke the resting wolf.  This elicited a low growl, but the creature did not move, grudgingly allowing the indulgence.  He offered the blue-eyed beast some cooked meat, which was taken gratefully.    
  
There was something about the presence of the animal that was already soothing his heart.  He supposed that was what pets were supposed to do, but he also knew that a giant wolf was not a pet – but was a wild creature, at least as wild as he, if not as bewildered.  Perhaps he was a sorcerer to conjure up a friend in a world littered with ruins where no one knew him.  Yes, people recognized his name now and again and he’d listened to campfire stories from travelers on the way here about “One-hundred years ago” and “The legendary knight.”  He scarce believed that he was supposed to be this person.  Even if he truly was – no one knew him here.  He didn’t even know himself.   
  
The wolf knew him, though. That much he sensed.    
  
The other voices that were clamoring in his head returned just as he began to doze in the afternoon light.  No, as it turned out, one-hundred years of sleep hadn’t been enough, after all.    
  
A child’s voice dominated this time.  “I cannot send myself,” he said, “as I do not have another form, but I can send you some gifts that may help you.” 

 

Link had obeyed one crazy voice.  He might as well obey another split-personality, he thought.  He tipped the light from the Sheikah Slate off into the field again, this time away from prying eyes.   
  
A chest and fish fell from the open air.  Link stared.    
  
The chest tumbled to a standstill upon the grass.  The fish were alive and flopping along the ground.    
  
Link made a face.  The wolf sniffed.    
  
“Hot damn! More cooking ingredients!”   
  
The boy made a fist-pump into the air.  In his view food was always good.     
  
Link was honestly more excited about the fish than about the chest.  He’d never seen these kinds of fish before – at least in the now-times.  The Sheikah Slate told him that they were from the ocean.  He gathered them up and found a nice little weapon inside the chest – a nice sturdy-looking bow.    
  
The voices came in full-force now.  A pair of female voices – not unlike Princess Zelda’s, yet not quite the same begged his attention.  He was rewarded with “shock” arrows, mushrooms and vegetables.  Another male voice gave him a pile of fresh red meat.  He felt – he did not hear – but felt a dark presence among the clamor in his head.  It was very much like the feeling he’d gotten when he’d looked out past the plateau at the purple smoke in the shape of a yawning beast circling the distant castle.  The other voices were grumbling and yelling at this presence, which cried out in an angry voice deeper than midnight.  It was male, whoever it was, and did not want to part with treasure that the other voices wished to give to the present Hero.  In the end, the other voices won the battle and Link was bequeathed a chest with a rather impressive flat-tipped sword.    
  
“One last gift,” a final voice spoke to him.  “I cannot offer myself, like the Wolf, but I can offer you Our companion through the ages.”    
  
Link wondered at this, but since this was apparently his birthday-party with as many mysterious gifts he was being given, he obeyed the last voice.    
  
He was given a horse.    
  
The wolf sat on its haunches and made no move to disturb the equine, nor did the equine spook.  Link found this most unusual.  The horse was beautiful – a stocky, powerful-looking creature with a red-chestnut body and a long cream-white mane and tail.  It was a mare and she trotted right up to him and nuzzled him as if she’d known him all her life.  Something about her felt familiar – perhaps she was another Familiar.  Oh, those stable-kids would be impressed.  Apparently, he could conjure up a spirit-horse!    
  
The stable-master had told him previously that any horse he’d caught from the wild population would be listed with any name he’d wished to give it, but he refused to rename this one.  Instead, he told Link the horse’s name – since she’d resembled a legendary steed from the land’s well-told stories.  “Epona.”  Yes, yes… this felt right. Link did not know why, but it felt like the perfect name – the animal’s true name.    
  
Link mounted Epona easily and set out for this “Kakariko Village” that people had spoken of.  He’d been told by the ancient king that he was supposed to meet someone named Impa there.  The wolf ran alongside, keeping pace with the gallop, darting here and there to attack small monsters and prey.    
  
The wolf was useful, Link would admit.    
  
It was good to have friends.      
  
In the ruins of what had once obviously been a thriving civilization, it was essential.  Horse-scent was nostalgic to him, though he could not pinpoint any given memory.  Riding was among his skills – just as with the hunting, the gathering and the butchery.  The two animals knew him, even though he did not know them yet.  His head swam with thoughts of the possibilities of “lives in other times.”    
  
The wolf refused to enter the village.  It, however, was waiting for him when he’d returned from it.  Impa – a delightful, wrinkly old prune of a woman with an impressive hat - told him another legend and shooed him away to find someone in Hateno Town, which was a place that the stable-master at Dueling Peaks had directed him to – accessible via a fork in the road.    
  
There was some country between Dueling Peaks and there, so Link decided to enjoy the ride.  The wolf aided him and he developed a tactic for riding around a bokoblin camp in a wide circle, ensnaring the enemies in a trap for the wolf to attack.    
  
“Good boy!” he found himself saying when the beast had taken down a goat for him in addition to the fight.  He was swift to butcher out the usable meat and to offer a share.  The wolf gave him what could only be the canine equivalent of a sour look at being called “boy.”   He didn’t figure on trying to play fetch anytime soon.  A creature of battle this one was.    
  
Not to mention the unsettling humanity in its eyes…   
  
Link had dismounted to try to chase down a wild horse for kicks and giggles when he heard a disturbing noise.  It definitely was a familiar sound – he’d’ heard it on the plateau near one of the shrines and its source had nearly killed him.  Rising out of the grass, one of the rusty Guardians creaked to life.  A red beam of light from its top-part aimed itself square at his chest.    
  
Link, called a “courageous soul” by the shrine monks ran away as fast as his legs could carry him.  He knew that he was brave, but he also knew that he was not stupid.  He ducked behind some ruined brickwork – the remains of some building resting lopsided in the sea of grass.    
  
The wolf was braver than he was – or perhaps, it was stupider.  While Epona wisely ran across the field (horses knew when to run), the wolf set its jaws and leapt toward the malicious automaton in a head-on attack.    
  
Link screamed at the wolf.  “No, you idiot!” he yelled across the field.    
  
It was too late.  The wolf broke rust off the Guardian and seemed to have taken some spring out of its movement, but the blast-beam hit home.  The canine was obliterated.    
  
“No!”  Link cried.  He’d just made a friend and had lost him in the same day!  The dull nostalgic ache in his heart became as a stab and a siren.  He narrowed his eyes, took the bow off his back and started lobbing arrows at what looked to be the Guardian’s “eye.”    
  
There was no running away now.  This hunk of metal had murdered his Familiar and it was going down!    
  
Dodging and weaving, keeping aim upon the hulking death, Link felled it and took the spoils in the form of mysterious parts and gears.  He just knew that the scientist that Impa had mentioned would probably want to have a good look at them.    
  
He scoured the fields.  There was not a trace of the wolf.  There were no remains – no scraps of fur or even spats of blood.  The Guardian’s beam and taken it out entirely, leaving nothing left, not even enough to bury.  Link sat down in the field and sighed.  Epona trotted up to him, now that the danger had passed, and nuzzled his hair. 

 

Why were his cheeks wet? He looked up at the sky.  No… it was not raining.  He was crying.  Link caught himself weeping.  He sniffed back mucus gathering in his nostrils.  Wasn’t he supposed to be tougher than this?  He’d barely met the strange animal – a stupid, reckless beast that had gotten itself killed and had already been driven to vengeance and grief.    
  
The weight of the week had settled upon his shoulders.  He’d finally found something familiar – in the Familiar – and suddenly, it had been taken away from him.    
  
He sat, allowing his horse to comfort him, gazing out upon the ruins in the sea of waving green.  He contemplated the fallen structures and the extinct – he hoped no more were merely dormant – Guardians.   
  
He’d gained no memories, yet he’d felt like he’d just lost several.    
  
The young man stood up and though he thought it was in vain, pointed the Sheikah Slate toward the open field again and willed the wolf – this time, the wolf specifically rather than a promise from a mysterious voice – to reappear.  Perhaps he could conjure it again!  The hope made his heart leap.    
  
The wolf did not come.  His heart sank.   
  
“I guess it’s just you and me, girl,” the boy said to the mare, patting her graceful neck.  “Don’t you dare die on me, okay?  You’ve got to promise me that.”    
  
Epona whickered.    
  
At that moment, one of the voices returned inside his brain.  Link looked around, puzzled.    
  
“It is I,” the voice that had preceded the summoning of the wolf intoned.  “I gave you a scare, didn’t I?  Don’t worry.  I can’t actually die.  Your spirit in another life, remember?”   
  
“I can’t bring you back.” Link grumbled.  “You said you’d fight at my side!  You attacked something way out of your league and it made you explode!”    
  
“Heh, heh, I suppose so,” the voice laughed.  “I can offer you no help until the next day dawns.  My strength in your time and place is spent for now, but it shall return with the rising of the sun.”    
  
“Truly? You aren’t pulling my leg here, are you?”    
  
“Would I lie to my hunting buddy?”    
  
Link laughed for joy into the wind.    
  
“I take it that you’re desperate for something familiar.”    
  
“Are you really that much of an idiot-dog?”    
  
“I shall be your Familiar – every day you choose to summon me, until my strength is spent fighting at your side.”    
  
“Can you tone down the recklessness?” Link asked.  “I’d like more time to get to know you.” 

 

“The Hero of Time already helped you today.  He gave you all that meat.”    
  
“Who gave me the horse?”    
  
“My other form – or at least another version of us entirely… I’m not actually sure.  I am afraid that I am going to be a touch reckless when I show up – as beasts are.  It’s the instincts, you know?  They override my humanity in your world.  I am sorry about that.”    
  
“So, in other words, I need to learn how to take care of my pets.”    
  
“I resent being called a pet, but yes.”    
  
“So be, it, then.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”    
  
“Isn’t there a town you’re supposed to be getting to?  My apologies about the fleas.”     
  
The voice dissipated on the wind as Link mounted Epona and prepared to head to Hateno.  He stroked Epona’s neck and enjoyed the lulling sensation of her hoof beats.  He looked forward to the next day when he could bring his “puppy” back.    
  
Through it all, he was simply glad to have met with something familiar.     
  
He scratched a nasty itch in his hair.  Fleas, indeed.    
  
____________________________________________________________  
  
**End.**  
  
Shadsie, 2017 

**Author's Note:**

> _(I just got this game a few days ago as of writing this. Everything above was based on true events in my gameplay, particularly, me playing with my various amiibos. I am incredibly amused that Toon Link / Wind Waker Link gave me fish. It made so much sense and was also hilarious. Flopping fish from the thin air)!_


End file.
